Never grow up
by Lovegood97
Summary: A oneshot from Minerva's perspective during the battle of Hogwarts.
**Author's note:** This is an idea I've had for a long, long time, and it seems like I've finally been able to put the story into words. This is a oneshot which I don't intend to expand, and I hope you all will enjoy it.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the song _Never grow up_ , which is the song written inbetween the story. The song is performed by Taylor Swift and I encourage you all to listen to it, it's amazing. Furhermore I do not own the characters or the settings, everything you recognize from the Harry Potter series belongs to the queen herself, Joanne Kathleen Rowling.

During her life, Minerva McGonagall had had her share of terrible events. Enough for a lifetime, to be more precise. So the current event that was unfolding felt like too much. Although she had been suprised to say the least, but at the same time happy to see Potter appear in the Ravenclaw common room, her body ached with surpressed fear and terror at what was coming at them. The witches and wizards participating in this war was barley of age for Merlin's sake!

However, Minerva had always been strong. Fearless. Fierce when needed. So blatantly she stood up as one of the leaders during the oncoming fight. She was someone students as well as teachers looked up to, admired, for her courage. She was a true Gryffindor at heart and soul. She took on one of the leader roles with certainty, confidence and determination. She did everything that stood in her power to protect the grounds, the school, the students. But this time, everything was not enough...

 _Your little hand's wrapped around my finger_

 _And it's so quiet in the world tonight_

 _Your little eyelids flutter cause you're dreaming_

 _So I tuck you in, turn on your favorite night light_

 _To you everything's funny, you got nothing to regret_

 _I'd give all I have, honey_

 _If you could stay like that_

The students felt like her own children. Especially the ones belonging to her own house. She did not pick favourites nor did she treat anybody different. Neither did she act like she felt anything more towards her students than what can barley be expected of a teacher. But underneath it all she cared. When you put some thought into it, it was not that odd. After all, Minerva did follow her house's students from the age of eleven until they came of age. Until they grew up. She saw their failures and their success, watched them grow from practically children to grown up adults. Minerva as good as raised Gryffindor's students, in a not-so-motherly-fashion and with love buried in her actions that the students only recognized when they graduated.

Her worst nightmare had just come true. The order, the teachers, the students, ran around in the castle, prepering to fight Voldemort until their last breath. But the only thing Minerva noticed was her students. Her as-good-as-children. The only thing she saw was the young witches and wizards rushing to places to aid. The only thing she heard was the teenager's battlecries, brimming with fury and rage. The only thing she felt was remorse. Was she actually going to lead her students into battle?

 _Oh darling, don't you ever grow up_

 _Don't you ever grow up, just stay this little_

 _Oh darling, don't you ever grow up_

 _Don't you ever grow up, it could stay this simple_

 _I won't let nobody hurt you, won't let no one break your heart_

 _And no one will desert you_

 _Just try to never grow up, never grow up_

A flash. A thud. A cry. Minerva was an experienced and practised duelist and although she fought against some of the most dangerous and skilled Death Eaters, her senses still sought out what she least wanted to acknowledge. She danced her way past each wizard and witch in her way, constantly looking right and left to check on her students. Often casting spells directed at her students opponents, trying to make sure noone suffered from any serious harm.

Another bam. A flash of red. A roar of vengence. Minerva wished with all her heart that she would never have to experience anything like this again.

 _You're in the car on the way to the movies_

 _And you're mortified your mom's dropping you off_

 _At 14 there's just so much you can't do_

 _And you can't wait to move out someday and call your own shots_

 _But don't make her drop you off around the block_

 _Remember that she's getting older too_

 _And don't lose the way that you dance around in your pj's getting ready for school_

She had moved her way through the castle, fighting off one particular ugly witch when she heard something she would remember forever. Something that made her entire body freeze. A cry that went through bone and marrow. Never had Minerva heard the embodiment of pain until this moment. Not daring to but unable to stop herself, she turned towards the source of the noise. The scene flashed before her eyes: an enourmous pile of stone. The brightest, most orange hair there ever was. A body. She knew what she saw but her mind would not accept it. With a blast her opponent was blown into pieces and Minerva faltered towards the massive pile of stones. The body beneth it was lifeless, no matter how much his brothers shook it, hit it, screamed at it. He did not move. He would never move again. The estranged noises of chock and horror that escaped Minerva merged with the cries from Ron and Percy Weasley. She wished she could take their pain from them, free them from their anguish. But Fred Weasley was dead, and nothing she could do would mend the whole he left gaping. How Minerva wished her students had never grown up.

 _Oh darling, don't you ever grow up_

 _Don't you ever grow up, just stay this little_

 _Oh darling, don't you ever grow up_

 _Don't you ever grow up, it could stay this simple_

 _No one's ever burned you, nothing's ever left you scarred_

 _And even though you want to, just try to never grow up_


End file.
